


After the Fall

by meganekkomeguca



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: F/F, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-04 12:46:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13365000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meganekkomeguca/pseuds/meganekkomeguca
Summary: In the end, the Devil won. After her victory, the world carried on. But when her enemies begin to recall her crimes, can the fragile illusion remain intact?





	1. Chapter 1

_We were once the ones who fought for hope, embracing curses, and putting our faith in the strength of our wishes. We were magical girls, and then we became something more. The Law of Cycles led us away, and we became her valkyries. So now we journey at her side, leading away magical girls who have at last succumbed to despair, granting them rest before they corrupt the wishes for which they once fought so hard. As magical girls battled throughout time, we drew closer to the promised salvation of one very special friend..._

_Once we were the ones who delivered salvation to magical girls. Once we offered purification and rest to their battle-weary souls. Once our goddess of hope was determined to save the one most precious to her. But she was too late, and that person, corrupted by despair, committed an unforgivable betrayal, ripping our goddess from the seat of her power and imprisoning her, imprisoning all of us, in a false world. Compounding her crime, this traitor who fashioned herself a devil stole our very memories away, forcing us to regard her illusion as reality. All that remained to me was the knowledge that this traitor was my sworn adversary, and even that faded over time. Until one night..._

\-----

Breakfast as normal. The apartment was filled with the smell of pancakes. Mami stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with expertise born of weekly practice, humming under her breath as she watched the bubbling batter solidify and bake to a golden brown. At the counter, Kyouko chopped fresh strawberries and placed them in a small bowl next to the array of other toppings. And Sayaka, who could burn a salad, sat in the adjoining living room, sprawled in her favorite cushy armchair with a book of case studies on her lap and her mind miles away.

Only a few miles, though. Madoka didn't live far. It would only take Sayaka about fifteen minutes to get to her friend's house - less if she borrowed Kyouko's bike. But what would be the point of going? If Madoka had remembered, she would have called, right? Or maybe not, for the same reasons Sayaka hadn't said anything to her flatmates. Mami and Kyouko were cooking in peaceful harmony. Neither betrayed the slightest hint that they'd suddenly remembered the truth about the world and themselves and Homura's coup five years ago.

Five years. Why now, out of the blue, had Sayaka suddenly remembered the truth? She'd awoken that morning - after Kyouko had _so thoughtfully_ opened the blinds and flicked the ceiling light a few times - with the forgotten knowledge sitting in the forefront of her mind as naturally as if it had every right to be there.

Which is did. Homura had _no right_ to make them forget, and if the other girl had been around, Sayaka would have given her a good shake. Or a good smack. Maybe both. Maybe she'd just completely beat up the pathetic nerd. She'd had sympathy for Homura at one point, but in this first flood of repressed memories, fellow feeling was fleeting. Although to pop Homura a good one, Sayaka would need to be able to find her, and, thinking about it, she hadn't seen Homura for years. And even though she had only been grappling with the truth for about an hour now, Sayaka still couldn't believe that it had taken her this long to realize.

Where the hell was Homura?

Seriously. Homura had been obsessed with Madoka, sold her soul for the other girl, had a total witch meltdown when they couldn't be together, and _recreated the universe_ so they could be. And even during the first half of eighth grade Homura had been nothing so much as a creepy shadow to Madoka. Sayaka remembered that much. Then after summer vacation... Nothing. No more Homura. She became a background NPC in their lives, and Sayaka had no idea why.

"Hey, earth to Sayaka!"

Sayaka startled in her chair upon hearing Kyouko call her name. Before she could respond, something hit her forehead. Sayaka glared at Kyouko as she picked the cold and wet chunk of strawberry out from where it had dropped into her cleavage (such as it was). "I thought you didn't like to waste food."

"So eat it," Kyouko responded, fanged tooth flashing in a grin.

"Yeah right." Sayaka held the piece of strawberry at arm's length. "You're the one who decided to waste it, not me."

"All right then." Kyouko crossed to where Sayaka was sitting, and Sayaka only caught the meaning of the look in her eyes seconds before Kyouko bent over and closed her lips around the strawberry - and Sayaka's fingers.

"H-Hey!" Sayaka blushed red as the strawberry and pulled her fingers out of Kyouko's mouth.

"You know I couldn't waste something that delicious," Kyouko purred, straddling Sayaka's lap. "But I got my eye on somethin' better..."

"Like pancakes, Kyouko-san?" Mami asked in a deadpan voice.

Kyouko whipped around so quickly she nearly fell off the chair. Sayaka hid her face in her hands.

"Stop flustering Sayaka-san and come eat before it gets cold." Her words were strict but Mami's eyes were soft with amusement - her usual attitude towards Kyouko. "Besides," she added as the other two followed her to the breakfast table, "you'll need your energy if you two are going to keep that up."

She was rewarded with a snicker from Kyouko and an embarrassed groan from Sayaka.

To Sayaka's relief, all talk of innuendo was dropped while they ate. As everyone tucked into the delicious pancakes, there was a companionable silence. Sayaka's thoughts were free to wander back to the matter which she had been pondering before Kyouko's little interruption.

Five years of non-magical normalcy. Sayaka and her friends had lived as regular teenagers, no witches, wraiths, or nightmares in sight. Had Homura stripped away their magic? _Could_ Homura strip away their magic? Her mind called up related memories. Super imposed over the first several months in this new world were slightly different recollections: after-school wraith patrols with Kyouko and Mami. But those dual memories ended after eighth grade summer vacation - the same time that Homura dropped out of their lives. What was up with that? Was the loss of their magic part of Homura's plotting, or had something happened to the devil herself?

She curled her thumb to brush over the base of her middle finger. Warm metal, ridged with runes, greeted her touch. Sayaka's eyebrows shot up. Her other hand stopped with a forkful of pancakes halfway to her mouth. Moving her thumb, she studied her left hand. The ring that housed her soul gem sat on her finger like it had always been there. Maybe it had. Maybe, like her memories, all that it had needed was a catalyst.

"You gonna eat that or what?" Kyouko's annoyed voice broke into Sayaka's reverie for the second time that morning.

"Sayaka-san, is something wrong?" Mami was peering at Sayaka in concern.

Sayaka shoved her neglected pancakes in her mouth to buy time. When she'd swallowed she grinned at the other two. "Yeah, sorry, just spacing out, I guess. I had a dream about middle school, and it got me thinking about back then."

"Yeah, that was when we all met." Kyouko crammed an entire pancake in her mouth and continued speaking. "Well, I knew Mami before then, but you know what I mean."

"What sort of dream was it?" asked Mami, cradling her tea cup in her hands.

"Ah... Just about us being in class when we got a new transfer student," Sayaka invented.

"Madoka," Kyouko supplied.

"No, in the dream it was that weird girl Akemi Homura." Sayaka watched their faces for dawning recognition. Nothing.

Kyouko pulled a face. "Oh. Her. I wonder whatever happened to her. Jeez, she was super creepy, always hanging all over Madoka when she first transferred in."

_You have no idea_ , Sayaka thought, but what she said was, "Yeah, and Madoka was always too nice to tell her to go away." Maybe it was callous of her, but Sayaka couldn’t help thinking that if Madoka had been a little less kind and encouraging to the new transfer student Homura five years and two universes ago, they wouldn't be in this situation now.

"We've all grown up since then," said Mami. "No doubt Akemi-san has as well."

"Who knows?" Kyouko stretched her arms over her head. "I don't care what the ice queen is up to anyway."

Sayaka did. She wanted to track down that damn devil and ask her what the hell she was about. But if Kyouko and Mami didn't remember. Sayaka didn't want to remind them. Not yet. She'd learned to curb her headstrong impulses somewhat, and right now Sayaka felt that playing it cool was the smarter idea.

So she finished breakfast, did the washing up (her duty as the resident non-cook), and excused herself to run some kind of errand.

The western-style duplex was a familiar sight. Sayaka had been there enough times in a previous life (or, well, lives) to find her way there with ease now that her memories were restored. She made her way to the correct door and hammered on it. There was a long pause, and then a young man in his early twenties, around Sayaka's age, opened the door, blinking blearily in the Sunday morning sunlight.

"Can I help you?" the guy asked, running a hand through wayward navy hair and tugging up the waistband of the sweatpants which were his only covering. He must visit the gym a lot, Sayaka noted before she snapped her attention back to his question.

"Uh, yeah. No. I mean, is Ho- Akemi-san in?"

"Akemi-san?" the guy echoed, his brow wrinkling. "There's no one here by that name."

Sayaka's gaze darted to the nameplate beside the door. Furukawa. She looked back to the guy, her eyes making only a slight detour to his perfectly-formed pectorals before focusing on his face. "How long," asked Sayaka, "have you lived here?"

"Just since the beginning of the semester," said Furukawa. "And I met the last tenant. Her name was Hirano, I think. Hirano Minami? Nanami? I do know it wasn't Akemi."

"Oh." Sayaka stood there for a minute sorting out her thoughts while Furukawa favored her with a sympathetic gaze. "You don't know how I could get in touch with Hirano-san, do you?"

Furukawa shook his head. "You could ask at the rental office. I have their address somewhere. Just a sec, I'll write it down."

He went back inside, leaving the door ajar. Sayaka watched him go with great interest. He _definitely_ worked out.

While Furukawa was gone, Sayaka glanced around the apartment's interior. No strange holograms or clocks or furniture more suited to a sci-fi series. Just a kotatsu with snack wrappers and textbooks, an open duffel bag with a water bottle and towel poking out, and a large television with a PlayStation on the shelf below. A normal college student's apartment.

"Here you go!" Furukawa was back, bearing a half sheet of notebook paper folded once. On the inside was a street address and a telephone number. "I hope this helps."

"Yeah, me too," said Sayaka with a wry chuckle. "Thank you very much!"

"Not a problem," Furukawa said, returning her grin. "Good luck!"

As she strolled away, Sayaka examined the paper. The address for the rental agency's office wasn't far. She could walk there now, check it out.

Unfortunately, her small streak of luck ran out. The rental office was closed for the weekend. Standing outside its darkened door, Sayaka called and left a voicemail message. She didn't have to stretch the truth much. She _was_ an old classmate of Akemi-san's, and she _was_ looking to get back in touch. That she was probably going to beat Homura to a pulp the next time they met wasn't something she felt the realtors needed to know, however.

No one returned her phone call until Tuesday, and the secretary who called only did so to say that they had no current contact information for Akemi Homura. Meanwhile, none of Sayaka's other friends betrayed any knowledge of returning memories. It truly did seem that Sayaka was the only one, and until she could find Homura and beat the truth out of her, all Sayaka could do was wait.

So she did. But as time passed with no leads on the Homura front, as life continued as normal, Sayaka's rage leaked away, ebbing into annoyed complacency. The righteous fire sputtered out with nothing to fuel it. It was hard to be mad at what was, for all practical purposes, an abstract concept. Sayaka kept an eye out for clues, promising herself that as soon as she found Homura she’d swing into action. But it was a funny thing. The waiting fell to the wayside as school geared up, as Sayaka’s workload became heavier, as she and Kyouko spent more time together, and without quite realizing it, more than a year passed without Sayaka confronting - or even seeing - Akemi Homura.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're still in old territory here. This was written mid-2014 according to the original post. Please enjoy some fun post-Rebellion character interaction!

It was late September. The sky blazed blue, and the air was heavy. The forecasts promised rain, and for Miki Sayaka it couldn’t come too soon. The light blue sweater she had picked out that morning just in case was now tied around her waist, and even that was starting to feel oppressive. As she made her way from one class to the next, Sayaka tried her best to stay in the long afternoon shadows cast by the university buildings.

The campus of Mitakihara University was just another example of the town’s fascination with architecture. Although a typical Japanese city in most ways, throughout its history the minds behind the buildings in Mitakihara had chosen to break tradition. Everything from its schools to its malls was designed to catch the eye, and the buildings of Mitakihara University were no exception. The architects responsible for revamping the university buildings after an assessment in the late 1990s had gone far afield in their inspiration, choosing to base their new designs on Gothic architecture. Spires and arches were the order of the day, making Sayaka feel at times like maybe she wasn’t in Japan anymore. On darker days, the campus could look downright gloomy, but in the bright sunlight of that September afternoon, the towering spires of the school buildings energized her and made her think about just how much people could accomplish if they really tried.

Like maybe walking faster than a crawl.

“Ah, jeez…” Sayaka muttered, inserting herself into the crush of students tramping down the main walk of the campus. This time of early afternoon was always when the most people were around. If they weren’t heading to class, then they were going to lunch, or to the fitness facilities, or running a million and one other little errands that they could only get to by using this particular strip of sidewalk. Sayaka found herself stuck behind a gaggle of shorter girls who must have been foreign exchange students, since they were chattering away in some other language. She’d seen them around campus before; their strange black and white clothes really stood out. European fashion could get pretty weird.

Her phone buzzed, and Sayaka answered it. “What’s up, Kyouko? I can’t talk for long; I’ve got class in about ten minutes - if I can get there.” She sighed. “You know what it’s like at this time of day.” Sayaka listened for a moment. “They aren’t  _offered_  at other times. You know that. Don’t sound so smug.” She could just picture Kyouko sitting in the apartment in sweats, phone cradled between her shoulder and her ear, both hands gripping a game controller except for when she reached into the bag of chips next to her – in fact, judging by the crunching and the muted music and sound effects on the other end of the line, Sayaka was probably exactly right, down to Kyouko’s favorite pair of sweatpants and grungy t-shirt. “Hey, what are you wearing right now?” Her face went red. “N-no, I didn’t mean-! You dirty girl.” She rolled her eyes, really hoping no one was paying attention to her conversation. “K-Kyouko!” She dropped her voice. “Jeez, save it for later, okay?”

“Anyway, what did you call about?” Sayaka used her free hand to adjust the strap of her school bag where it rested on her shoulder. “Really? Yeah, sure. Tomorrow would be better, though.” Sayaka saw an opening in the throng of students and pushed her way through to get ahead of those girls in front of her. She may have used her elbow to help clear her path, though Sayaka certainly wouldn’t admit to it.

“See if you can get in touch with Madoka, okay?” she asked. “I’m sure she’ll be fine with it. An outdoor tea garden is totally her thing.” She listened for a moment. “Yeah, hers too. Give her a call if you want, but I think she said she had to go to Nagisa-chan’s performance.” She narrowed her eyes at the response she got. “Kyouko! No, you can’t tell her that. I know you’re joking, you jerk.” Sayaka rolled her eyes. “Ha. Let’s just the three of us go this time, okay? We’ll invite Ma-”

Sayaka was cut off as someone approaching from her right plowed into her. Sayaka hit the ground butt-first with an indignant yelp. “Ow! Careful!” She’d thrown out her free arm to try to catch herself, but that had only earned her a scraped-up arm. At least her white t-shirt was short-sleeved, or else she might have ripped it.

The person picking up her scattered belongings paused for a moment upon hearing Sayaka’s voice. “I apologize for my carelessness,” she said, continuing to gather her things.

“I guess it’s okay,” Sayaka said, examining the scrapes on her elbow and her palm. They weren’t bloody, and when she checked her school bag, nothing looked damaged there. She turned to her assailant. “Just watch where-” Sayaka froze, took a closer look at the woman kneeling next to her. Black long-sleeved shirt, dark jeans. The hand retrieving a plain black cellphone from where it had fallen was unadorned by any rings. Indeed, save for a strange black ear cuff in the shape of a lizard, ornamentation seemed antithetical to the woman’s appearance. Her jet black hair in a severe bun only seemed to reinforce this impression.

Familiar lavender eyes met Sayaka’s gaze with mild curiosity. Akemi Homura said nothing, however.

“Oi! Sayaka!”

Kyouko’s voice finally got through to her. Without breaking eye contact with Homura, Sayaka raised her phone back to her ear. “Ah, sorry, Kyouko. I ran into someone while I was talking to you. Shows me for getting distracted, huh?” She forced a laugh. “I’d better go now so I can apologize. Bye.” She disconnected the call before Kyouko could protest. “Homura.”

“Miki Sayaka.” Her voice was deeper than it had been when they were teenagers, but the cool inflection on Sayaka’s name had not changed. Homura started to get to her feet, but Sayaka shot out a hand and clamped it on Homura’s shoulder before she even realized she was doing it.

“Hold on,” she said, her voice losing the calm she had forced while speaking with Kyouko. Homura cocked her head to one side. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“I am trying to get to my next class.” Homura gave the hand on her shoulder a pointed look.

Sayaka tightened her grip. “You  _know_  what I’m talking about.”

Homura regarded Sayaka with a steady gaze. “You remember.”

“Damn right I do!”

“Then what do you want from me?” Homura shrugged away from Sayaka’s hand and rose to her feet, towering over Sayaka for a brief moment before Sayaka stood as well.

Sayaka was annoyed to see that Homura had caught up to her in height somewhat; standing this close it was clear that she had Homura beat by at most a centimeter or two. Sayaka made the most of this and glowered at the other girl. “I want you to-”  _change things back!_  The words caught in her throat. ”-explain what the hell you were thinking!“

"You wouldn’t-” Homura paused and  _looked_  at Sayaka. The intensity of her gaze made Sayaka want to take a step back; instead she moved closer until they were nearly nose to nose. Homura smirked. A bitter laugh preceded her next statement. “You’re the only one who could even come close to understanding, I suppose. But even so, you’d never agree.” She adjusted the black ear cuff and looked away.

“How about you stop being so cryptic and try me?” Sayaka crossed her arms.

“I am merely trying to move on and live my life.”

“Bullshit.” Homura merely held Sayaka’s gaze. Compelled to continue, she added, “You did  _all this_  for Madoka, and now you’re just  _moving on_?”

“What else is left?” Homura pushed some loose bangs out of her eyes. “Miki Sayaka, for both our sakes, forget you saw me. This world is good for you, is it not? Aren’t you happy here?”

There was a pleading note to Homura’s words, and to her own disgust Sayaka had to admit that what Homura proposed was tempting. She  _was_  happy here. But then she’d been happy in Homura’s false labyrinth too, and that had been an unsustainable illusion.

“I want answers.”

“I have already become Lucifer; I suppose I must now become the serpent as well,” Homura murmured wistfully.

“Huh?”

“‘But the serpent said to the woman, "You will not die; for God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”’ Homura gave Sayaka a thin smile. “Do you know the Christian creation myth?”

“Uh… Yeah.” Kyouko had explained it to her once. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s a metaphor. Never mind. You never were the bookish type, were you?” Homura adjusted the strap of her sleek black messenger bag where it rested on her shoulder.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sayaka muttered under her breath. She sighed, more like a growl. “Look, cut the crap, okay? I want an explanation, and I’m not leaving until I get it.” As she spoke she noticed for the first time that the world around them had gone muted. She and Homura were undisturbed in the center of a ten foot circle right in the middle of the university’s busiest thoroughfare, and no one around them was reacting in the slightest. The students flowed around the invisible ring - no, not quite invisible. The perimeter of their little confrontation was marked off by a dozen or so diminutive figures standing facing inward with stiff, synthetic smiles as they watched Sayaka and Homura. Sayaka recognized the foreign girls from before and finally made the connection to their nature as Homura’s familiars.

Sayaka felt her shoulders rise involuntarily. She forced herself to relax as she looked back to Homura. Homura gave her a level gaze in return.  _You’re still a witch, aren’t you?_ _Sayaka thought._ _You’ve changed over these years, but I can’t forget what you are, no matter how much I wish I could._

The thought distracted her, and she only snapped back when Homura said, “I’m going to class,” and began to walk past her.

“Then I’m coming with you,” said Sayaka. “You’re not getting away from me now, Homura.”

“Do as you like,” Homura said without turning back.

Shooting a glare at the back of Homura’s head, Sayaka fell into step behind her. She noticed out of the corner of her eyes how the doll-like familiar girls were now following them. The sounds of campus life drifted back into focus and the world became normal again. The familiars dispersed somewhat until Sayaka only caught the occasional glimpse through the crowd of students surrounding them, but now that she was aware of their presence, she knew that they were watching.

Sayaka tagged along in Homura’s wake. Occasionally Homura’s head half turned, just enough to check for Sayaka, and then she’d look forward again as though she’d never done anything else. With her hair pulled up in the bun, Homura’s strange black ear cuff was visible, and the purple gemstone at the end glinted in the early autumn sunlight. There was something hypnotic about the way it moved, and Sayaka found herself watching the swaying ornament like she might have watched a spider resting on the ceiling, too high to deal with but still too close for comfort.

They reached their destination. “Isn’t this the medical school?” Sayaka asked. She recognized the distinct façade. Unlike the soaring older buildings on campus, the new medical building was of plain, white stone with columns, a classical contrast to the ostentatious designs of the other facilities. Rather fitting for Homura, Sayaka thought as she followed the other girl into the building. She was still a bit confused, though. Unlike some of the other campus buildings, which were shared by different departments, the medical school had this building all to itself, so what class could Homura possibly have?

Homura led Sayaka to a cavernous lecture hall and settled into a seat near the back. She went through what was obviously a routine by this point, unpacking her laptop from her bag, pulling out a water bottle, and settling in. Homura pulled out a novel as well and began to read. Sayaka could take a hint. She sat down in the seat next to Homura, stowing her own bag under her chair.

Being in an unfamiliar classroom made Sayaka all too aware of the lecture she was skipping right now, but did it really matter? Did any of this matter? This world, going to university, it was all just another illusion created by Homura to distract them from what she had done. This wasn’t reality, and once Sayaka got some answers out of Homura-

_“This world is good for you, is it not? Aren’t you happy here?”_

_Damn it._

The professor chose that moment to get started. Once the first slide went up on the large projector display, Homura’s attention snapped to the screen. It seemed that the other woman was truly taking her studies seriously. Sayaka tried to follow along with the lecture. Maybe she’d see what drew Homura to take this course of study. Sayaka had always thought of Homura as a bit of a nerd, but more of a book nerd, not a science nerd. Still, here they were in a class about – oh god.

Sayaka had to put her head down on the desk. Funny how while being a magical girl she could see and even suffer terrible wounds, but looking at pictures of diseased organs on the projector screen made her nauseated within minutes.

The lecture was long and impossible to follow without any background in the subject. Not that Sayaka really wanted to follow along anymore. If she paid attention to what the professor was saying, her mind started to supply graphic images to accompany the narration. Instead Sayaka decided to focus on the choices in her life that had led her to this point. Confronting Homura, not confronting Homura sooner, becoming a damn magical girl in the first place… She shifted, pulling her hand out from under her head so that she could look at the ring on her middle finger. It had been so long since she’d used magic. When she had first remembered, Sayaka hadn’t wanted to try anything lest it somehow alert Homura. Even now, the existence of miracles and magic still felt more like a dream than reality.

Sayaka held back the urge to glance over at Homura. The other woman was probably sitting like she had been the last time Sayaka had looked: straight-backed, perfect posture, eyes forward, hands flying over the keyboard to take notes. Sayaka could hear the furious clacking of keys to her left, so that much at least was still the case. Homura either truly wasn’t fazed by running into Sayaka or she was hiding it well. From what Sayaka knew, it was probably the latter.

_What are you up to, Homura?_

She’d had a year to think about it, and Sayaka still couldn’t answer the question. Was this another labyrinth, or had Homura truly rewritten the universe as Madoka had? Which did Sayaka want to be the case? Why had Homura disappeared from their lives, and why was she going about her life as a normal university student when she was the god (or demon) of this world? And now that Sayaka remembered the truth, what would happen?

She should insist that Homura return everyone’s memories and let the world go back to the way it was supposed to be. That was what Madoka would want, and that would surely be best - right? Sayaka had become part of the Law of Cycles, and she knew that Madoka had done the right thing by breaking the cycle of despair.

_“Aren’t you happy here?”_

_But that’s not what matters, is it?_  she wanted to say aloud. Even as she thought the words, another voice in her head asked,  _is it?_  Could it really somehow be okay to just accept this world, to let the demon win? Was the heart that created this really so sinful? Hadn’t she told that to Homura long, long ago?

There were no good answers for this. Her thoughts just circled around each other. Until Sayaka knew what Homura was thinking, why she’d done what she did, there was no way to answer the questions which had plagued Sayaka ever since her memories had returned.

The two and a half hour microbiology lecture was agony, and when it ended Sayaka waited just long enough for Homura to gather up her things before dragging her to a favorite local cafe. It was a small shop just off the campus proper, and Sayaka, Madoka, and Kyouko were frequent visitors. Frequent enough that, as she and Homura were taking their seats, Sayaka wished she had picked another place. She did not want to be interrupted before she’d had a chance to grill Homura. Kyouko probably wouldn’t move from the living room for anything short of an explosion, though, and Madoka wasn’t likely to come by on her own. Sayaka decided to risk it.

“All right, transfer student,” said Sayaka once they were seated. “I’m done. No more putting this off. Tell me  _everything_.”

“I’m not a transfer student,” Homura said in a calm voice. “Not anymore. Not ever. Very well, Miki Sayaka.” She adjusted the lizard-shaped ear cuff on her left ear. “Ask your questions.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do this whole time,” Sayaka grumbled. She caught sight of the waitress approaching. “Hang on. Hey, Yuma.”

“Hi, Sayaka-san!” The high school girl greeted her with a grin. “The usual?”

Sayaka nodded. “Yeah. What about you, H-?” She cut herself off. She liked the kid, but Yuma was seriously chatty. The last thing Sayaka wanted was Yuma casually dropping Homura’s name the next time Sayaka and her friends came by the café. “I’m paying. Get whatever you want,” she said to cover her verbal misstep.

“Black coffee.”

Sayaka rolled her eyes. “You  _would_  drink it black.”

“Gotcha!” Yuma tapped her temple and smiled. “I’ll bring out your drinks as soon as they’re ready!” She darted back to the café counter.

Once the girl had left, Sayaka returned to the conversation at hand. “Okay. So let’s start with the basics. Why’d you do it?”

“That’s a very vague-”

“ _Homura_.”

“To keep Madoka safe,” replied Homura. “Why else?”

“By trapping her in another false world. Uh-huh.” Sayaka rolled her eyes. “And how’d you jump to that idea from your whole selfless suicide plan?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Homura actually sounded puzzled. “Even had I succeeded in dying, the Incubators would have found another magical girl to use as bait for Madoka. I had to do something else.”

“That… makes sense. I guess.” She paused, then asked, “What happened to the Incubators anyway?”

Homura let out a low, dark chuckle. The gem on her ear cuff swung gently, catching the sunlight flowing through the cafe windows.

_Right. Demon. Let’s not go there for now._

“Er… Anyway,  _this_  was your big plan for defeating the Incubators.” Sayaka leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “Seems kind of convoluted to me.”

Homura shook her head. “I told you you wouldn’t understand.”

“You said I was the most likely to understand, actually,” Sayaka said, wagging a finger. “So try me.”

The waitress brought them their drinks. Steam rose from Homura’s black coffee. She sipped it without hesitation or reaction. Sayaka fiddled with her spoon as she waited for her own drink to cool.

“Is this the first time we’ve ever gone out like this?”

Homura paused with her cup halfway to her lips. “With this little enmity? I believe so.”

“That’s pretty pathetic, don’t you think?” Sayaka let out a snort of laughter. “Kind of sad, really, how we could never get along.” Homura nodded. They sat in silence, sipping their drinks. “Especially,” Sayaka continued eventually, “since you said I might understand where you’re coming from.”

“I don’t know why I said that.” Homura sighed and set down her coffee cup in its saucer with a small clink. “You would never do something as monstrous as I have.”

“I wouldn’t have thought you would either, to be honest. You had to have known that it wouldn’t be what Madoka wanted.”

Homura gave her a thin smile. “Madoka didn’t know what she wanted. I did, and I gave it to her.”

Sayaka’s mouth moved, but no words came out. “I- What- What?” She waved an arm, almost upsetting her coffee cup. “You think  _this_  is what she wanted? Really, Homura? Really? What the hell?”

“Surely you remember what she was like,” Homura said, still smiling that damn demonic smile. “Always willing to sacrifice. Her life, her happiness, her very existence. I couldn’t let her do that, not when it wasn’t what she  _truly_ wanted. Madoka denied her desires, but I didn’t. And that’s why I am the devil of this world.”

“You did this to Madoka just because you thought it was what she wanted?” Sayaka half-rose in her seat; she was freaking out way too much to keep her cool while sitting. “How deluded can you get?”

“It  _is_  what she wanted.” Homura narrowed her eyes. She bit out the words. “She told me herself, Miki Sayaka. I would not presume to-” Sayaka snorted. “Do not mock me!”

Sayaka gripped the edge of the table. “What did she say, huh, transfer student? What the hell could she have said that made you think this was a good idea?”

She saw Homura’s expression soften the slightest fraction before the other woman dropped her gaze. “That… is personal. It is between me and Madoka.”

“You think that’s going to get you off the hook?” Sayaka leaned across the table, trying to catch Homura’s gaze.

Homura looked up at Sayaka through hooded eyes. “It would be incredibly easy to make you forget again,” she murmured.

The heat of anger turned to ice in her veins. Sayaka sank back into her chair. “I see. Don’t piss off the devil.”

“You’ve become rather crude over the years,” Homura commented. “It must be spending so much time in the presence of Sakura Kyouko. Interesting how you have the time to spend with her, is it not, Miki Sayaka?”

“Are you threatening her?” The anger flared up inside her again, but this time accompanied by choking fear.

“No.” Once again Homura sounded neutral, like the imperturbable transfer student whom Sayaka remembered from another lifetime. “I have no wish to harm any of you, though you persist in believing otherwise.”

“Well, excuse me for not knowing what to expect.” Sayaka crossed her arms and looked away. Funny, the café’s patrons had been normal people when they’d arrived, but at some point since then the tables and booths had become populated by those creepy doll children. They drank their coffee and chatted in some other language, but Sayaka knew that they were aware of everything that passed between her and Homura. “You haven’t exactly been the most predictable, you know.”

“Perhaps not from your perspective.” Homura traced her finger around the rim of her coffee cup.

“I have a hard time understanding how someone who loves Madoka so much could trap her like this, strip away her powers and memories. It’s-” Her own words reminded her. “Wait, more importantly, where the hell have you been all these years?  _That’s_  unpredictable!”

“I’ve never left.” A familiar with steel blue hair and a black pork pie hat approached the table, bearing a tray with two coffee cups. Homura raised an eyebrow at the smirking doll child, who said something in a voice too low and distorted for Sayaka to understand. Homura’s lips tightened in response, and she took the replacement cup with both hands. The familiar turned to Sayaka, staring at her with dead blue eyes and a jagged smile. She held out the tray with the remaining coffee cup.

“No thanks.” Sayaka shuddered slightly. She glanced over to the café counter. Yuma was leaning on it, chin propped in her hands, as she talked with the manager. Both seemed oblivious to the shift in their clientele that afternoon. Sayaka jerked her head in at the retreating familiar, who bore the untouched coffee back to a table where others of its kind sat. “Are they- Does this mean that this world is just a bigger labyrinth after all?”

“Who knows?” Homura kept her focus on her coffee cup. “Does it matter?”

“Well- It  _should_.”

“Why?” She went back to tracing the rim of her cup. “Why does it matter, Miki Sayaka? Why must you question everything?”

“Homura…” She heard the voice of a broken girl leaking through. Was it worth it to press the advantage? Would it just anger the devil of this world? And… did Sayaka really want to hurt Homura further? Okay, the other woman had a hell of a lot to answer for, but…

“I should be going now.” Homura pushed back her chair. She bolted her new coffee in a single scalding gulp; Sayaka was impressed in spite of herself. “Good-bye, Miki Sayaka.”

“No, wait!” Sayaka stood as well. “You still didn’t answer my question.”

“I answered many questions. Good-bye.” Homura headed for the exit. The familiars were amused by this; Sayaka could hear them chattering in snide tones. Well, Sayaka wouldn’t mind leaving  _them_  behind. She followed Homura out of the café, doubling back quickly to toss a few bills on the table. She had probably overpaid, but if she took too long she’d lose Homura.

She needn’t have worried. The street outside was relatively free of people, and the fiery sunset cast Homura in a sharp silhouette. Sayaka jogged after her quarry.

Homura flinched when she heard the approaching footfalls. Her shoulders sagged, and without turning she asked, “What more could you possibly want from me, Miki Sayaka?”

“Answer one more question.” Sayaka clamped a hand on Homura’s shoulder. Homura tensed at the touch but didn’t try to shy away. “Why haven’t you seen Madoka in years?”

“We were in class together all through high-”

Sayaka tightened her grip. “You  _know_  what I meant. Why did you start ignoring her? You pretty much faded into the background after summer vacation in eighth grade.”

“Stop.” Homura’s voice cracked on the single word.

Sayaka let her hand drop. “What’s happened to you?” she asked in a softer tone.

“You  _know_  what’s happened to me. I’m a witch. A demon. I curse everything I touch. I cursed  _her_. She’s better off without me, and I wish you had never seen me!” The gem hanging from Homura’s ear winked softly in the dying sunlight, set in motion by the quivering of its wearer’s shoulders.

Sayaka took an involuntary step back at the emotion in Homura’s voice. “Oh… Uh… Jeez.” Hadn’t they been through this before? Of course they had; it was Homura. Repeating things was her specialty, after all.

She sighed and closed the gap between herself and Homura. “I won’t tell Madoka I saw you.” She put her hand back on Homura’s shoulder, gently this time. The other woman still flinched, whether because of Sayaka’s previous rough treatment or just because she wasn’t used to the gesture Sayaka didn’t know. That sparked a thought.

“Uh, look, Homura. Question for you.” Homura muttered something Sayaka couldn’t quite hear, but she was pretty sure it was sarcastic. “Yes, another question. I know. You’ve avoided Madoka and the rest of us for years. Thinking back, I don’t remember you being close with anyone else in our class either. When’s the last time you ever, you know, hung out with anyone?” Homura was silent. “Seriously? Didn’t we tell you not to be alone and take everything on yourself? Idiot.” She took away her hand and, before Homura could react, threw both arms around the other woman and hugged her from behind.

“M-Miki Sayaka, what are you doing?” Homura stiffened in Sayaka’s embrace and managed to sound both affronted and horrified at the same time. “Unhand me!”

“Relax, will you?” Sayaka rested her chin on Homura’s shoulder and turned her head a bit so she could meet Homura’s eyes. “It’s just a hug. You know? It’s a thing people do when they’re friends.”

“And you would consider me a friend after all this?” asked Homura, managing to regain some of her normal cold dignity.

“Friends can make huge, dumb, colossally boneheaded mistakes and still be friends.” Sayaka grinned. “I once knew a girl who got so hung up on some guy that she wrecked her relationships with everyone around her, but her best friend never gave up on her. Does that sound familiar?”

“You were never as bad as-”

“Maybe not. But the principle’s the same.” Sayaka let Homura go and gave her shoulder a friendly shake. “Homura. Look. We aren’t best friends. We were barely ever even friends at all. But you’re important to Madoka, and I think you were right earlier. I do understand, kind of, what might have driven you to this. So… Let’s start fresh, okay? For now? You don’t have any friends, and that’s pretty sad, so lucky for you, Sayaka-chan is volunteering herself!” She put her fists on her hips and nodded vigorously.

“Miki Sayaka, you don’t have to-”

“Uh, uh, uh…” Sayaka wagged a finger at Homura. “Stop being so formal! We’re closer than that, at least.”

Homura narrowed her eyes. “Sayaka. What exactly are you trying to do?”

Sayaka gave her a rueful smile. “I don’t exactly know myself. I’m… jumbled up inside. I don’t know what to think about everything you’ve said. But I do know that Madoka would be unhappy if she saw you like this, so being your friend is something I can do.”

Homura blanched at the name. “You won’t-”

“I promise.”

Homura reached up and adjusted her ear cuff. “I-” she cleared her throat. “I had better go.”

“Yeah, okay.” Sayaka forced a chuckle. “I guess I did kind of waylay you. When do you finish classes tomorrow?”

“Three.”

“I’m done at noon.” Sayaka pumped her fist. “Got lucky with schedules. I’ll meet you at that cafe again at quarter after three, okay?” She pointed at Homura like an idealistic defense attorney.

Homura heaved a long sigh, then nodded. “Good-bye, Sayaka.”

“Later, Homura!”

Homura didn’t acknowledge this, just walked away. Sayaka watched her go, taking in the lone figure silhouetted against the horizon. The late afternoon sky was bruised purple now with promised storm clouds. Very fitting, very Homura.

And now they had a coffee date for the following afternoon.

_“Sayaka. What exactly are you trying to do?”_

Homura had gone, but Sayaka found she was asking herself the same question. But how else was she supposed to proceed? Dealing with a demon, you had to take a gentle hand, especially if the demon was probably insane. (Forget the mental trauma of turning into a witch; Sayaka still had vivid memories of Homura attempting to murder her just to prevent Sayaka from further hurting Madoka’s feelings during the last time Homura had repeated that month. If that didn’t say “unhinged,” Sayaka didn’t know what did.)

It was just… Homura had seemed so  _sad_ , and Sayaka wasn’t heartless. But was there anything she could do? Homura was a witch or a demon or whatever the hell, and there was no coming back from that, was there? At least, not without your best friend utterly rewriting the laws of the universe to make it so you’d never become one in the first place. Somehow Sayaka didn’t think that would work a second time. She still wasn’t even sure what role magic and magical girls played in this new world.

It wasn’t until the skies opened and dumped a grey patter of rain that Sayaka realized how long she’d been standing there. She yelped and dashed for shelter, thoughts of Homura and the nature of the world pushed aside. Well, thought Sayaka as she untied her sweater from around her waist and pulled it on, she’d have plenty of time to think about this more. Tomorrow. At three. A coffee date with the devil.


End file.
